


Discover and Analyze Where My Truth Lies

by Jairephix



Series: Logic and Love [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse discussion, Bi!Draco is best Draco, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, HP: EWE, Masturbation, Most characters are mentions or flashbacks, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jairephix/pseuds/Jairephix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This? This will not save her, no matter the pretty words." Dropping his wrist, the professor smacked the blonde upside the head, stalking away. "Use that brain I know you house in your skull."<br/>--<br/>Draco Malfoy, master of screwing up, finally gets all the things off his chest that have been bothering him for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories

The blonde drummed his fingers over the desktop, chewing his lip. A terrible habit, he knew, but it was one he picked up during his teenage years, along with biting his nails. Nerves, he had told himself then. Anxiety and something Granger called "post-traumatic stress disorder", he told himself now. She told him that nearly everyone who stepped away from the Battle that day had it. Her voice was hollow as she said that, despite the alcohol, when they talked for the first time, barely a few years later, in a pub. It was then that he first noticed how deep the circles under her eyes were, how tired she looked all the time.

Ah, his teenage years. The years of realizing his hormones made him stupid. The years that he wished terribly to relive, so he could fix every damned, bloody, stupid decision he had made. Then again, maybe not...

_The Head of his House paused, turning to the young wizard after his confession. For a moment, the young Malfoy could have sworn a flash of pain and remorse pass through his professor's eyes. It was gone before it could be questioned further, but his words were all that were needed, to explain it all._

_"Treat her better. There are no promises that can save her. Don't be a coward and a fool." Snape strode over, grabbing Draco by the wrist, and shoving his shirt sleeve upwards to point at the brand with his wand. "This? This will not save her, no matter the pretty words." Dropping his wrist, the professor smacked the blonde upside the head, stalking away. "Use that brain I know you house in your skull."_

_He didn't sleep that night, laying in his bed, thinking about what advice had been told to him, and why on earth his godfather would tell him those words. Surely, he couldn't...not from personal experience..._

None of that mattered now, he remembered. People would have still died. He would still have his own nightmares, and would for years. He was a Malfoy! Malfoys did not go talk about their problems with others.

He _had_ begun to treat her kinder. No more harsh words, he tried to keep his biting tongue to a minimum. It was hard, so very hard. Her temper would flare, and he would lose his inhibitions and get lost in her dark eyes where he could almost see the flames of her passion burning bright, and his fool tongue would slip back into old habits.

Today had been one of those days. She had come to his desk, demanding to know why he dared submit anything with this many glaring errors in it. He had meant to apologize, to offer to fix it. He hadn't realized so much of his raising had gone into the document, using slurs casually throughout the work. And he hadn't realized that it would have gone right to Hermione's desk. She may have been the terror of the office, but work got _done_ with her around. But her temper burned hot, and he snapped, as all coherent thought was lost in what he wanted to do with her, and the wrong word came out, for the first time in years.

Immediately, he sucked his breath back in. Tears welled in her eyes, and he felt the sharp jab of pain that was guilt. He hated making her cry, especially once he realized he actually harbored feelings for her. Her nose wrinkled as she tried to hold back the hurt.

"Hermione, I--"

"Save it, Malfoy."

Malfoy. He was back to Malfoy after two comfortable years of her arguments where he was Draco. Two comfortable years of casual drinks at the pub, a discussion of their lives. It hurt. And a Malfoy only strikes harder when they're hurt.

"No. I will not 'save it'. I _will_ take that document back, fix it, and even work overtime tonight to get it done. I just ask one thing." He paused, refusing to change his expression. Maybe he was growing as a person after all. Draco had stopped the venom his instinct had wanted him to spit at her, and kept reasonably calm.

That didn't change the Muggle-born's attitude, however. She wasn't privy to the inner workings of his mind. "What."

"That after I'm done, the two of us go get a drink. I...I think it may be time to...talk."

A long pause filled his office. For a brief moment, he forgot to breathe, honestly thinking she wouldn't accept.

"Fine." He blinked, trying to process everything. "Maybe you talking about what happened will help, Draco." She flashed a smile, and like that, she was gone.

He leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his hair with a deep sigh. _Well. That could have gone a lot worse._


	2. Extrospection

The pub was nearly empty, tonight. Well, it _was_ a Wednesday. He waited, anxiously, until she showed up, straight from the Ministry, just like him. Her hair was always so much more wild at the end of the day, the way it had been all the time, back at Hogwarts. He allowed himself to smile a little, taking a sip of his alcohol.

"So, let's talk," Hermione began, her own glass in hand.

"Yes. Let's. And let's start with you." Draco fought down the surge of flutters in his stomach, hoping he could keep his anxiety in check.

"Me?"

"Yes." He took another sip, a longer one, to steel himself against what he was about to say. "So, why are you with Weasley?"

He watched her blink, surprised to have it start this way. "What does my relationship with Ronald have to do with anything?"

"Because. I see you come in mornings with red eyes, splotchy cheeks. I see you work late to avoid going home." She started to protest, the fire in her eyes starting as embers, as he held up a hand. "Please, Hermione. Let me finish." Her mouth closed, slowly, as he continued on. "I've _heard_ how he talks to you. I know how it works. I know how it sounds."

A long, heavy silence fell between them, that he took advantage of to drink. A little more courage flooded his veins with the fire in his throat. "You know, I was doing research on this...traumatic disorder thing. I found Muggle books to read about it." That wasn't the startling part, as she had suggested he go to a library to read about it in the first place, and discovered that without magic, Muggles delved a lot heavier into the sciences, and had unearthed more about the mind than he was certain most Healers knew. One of his proposals he had written and ready in his desk involved training Healers in Muggle sciences to help aid in better healing, including for those patients who had previously been tortured and lost their minds. Modern science, combined with experimental magic could prove the key to repairing that damage...

He shook his head, continuing on. "I found, in those readings, that it can also be triggered by abuse." He felt her tense across the table, and he stared down at the wood instead as he continued to speak. "My father was quite a hand at it, it seems. Manipulation to make me do what he wanted, verbal beration when I failed. Blaming me for his short-comings and failures, or when I couldn't achieve what he wanted. Everything, every failing, was my fault. I felt like I couldn't be enough...like I wasn't a true Malfoy."

The silence continued, almost ringing. And then, "Why did you bring up Ron?"

"Because," He felt his nerves starting to fray. "I see how he talks to you, treats you. He uses you, Hermione. I watch what he does, and I see my father all over again."

"That...that doesn't mean..."

"Hermione, tell me, then. Are you happy? Do you look forward to seeing him every day, not dreading what thing you've done wrong? Not dreading the next shouting match that leaves you in tears? Are you with him for comfort? For familiarity?"

She swallowed hard, surprised that her former classmate had this much calm in his voice, not speaking with rage. No, it was sorrow that tinted Draco's words, and she was forced to acknowledge that he was right.

"I...He can't be. I...he needs me, he'd be..."

"He blames you for things he can't do. 'How could you think I would ever do that?' Does that sound familiar?" He leaned across the table, and Hermione saw his eyes slowly darken to the thunderstorm grey they were. "The abused rarely realize they are abused. They don't want to leave, for fear of something worse. He can be your friend, show a different face to other people, can be a good friend to others...but a victim is still a victim." He paused. "Have you ever told others about something he did, and they shrugged it off? Or said that you should just deal with it?"

The witch swallowed hard again, nodding, as all the pieces tumbled into place. "I can't leave him, though. Everyone expects us to...to live happily ever after."

"Are you happy?"

She looked up, surprised. "No."

"Then leave him." Draco stood, leaving enough Galleons on the table to cover their drinks, and more. "If you need help...I may have been a prat to you in school, Granger, but I _have_ grown up. I want to be a friend, in the least, not just a coworker or unfortunate acquaintance."

Hermione sat there, watching him leave, and couldn't move her eyes from the door for a while. He had shown her the reality of her world, and it all came crumbling down.


	3. Introspection

He groaned into his hands, sitting heavily on the edge of his bed. He knew Hermione needed to hear it. She wouldn't have listened if it hadn't come across clinical. But the whole time Draco was speaking, he had felt his heart race, wanting to scream out the words he held so tight to his chest since he was 13.

Yes, she had hit him. He had deserved it, so thoroughly. He was a flying little twat in school, but that year, he seriously sat back and thought about it all. The way her eyes burned, the way her anger made his heart tighten.

The way she had looked, her ferocity, had won his hormone addled brain over that day. He hadn't thought she was pretty, before then.

And now, years later, he had looked past that particular part of her flames. The girl was smart, was cunning. She was beautiful, and protective, and fierce. There were so many things Hermione was that he could never begin to describe.

But Draco knew exactly what he was, and he groaned again.

Master of eating boot leather via stuffing his own foot into his mouth. King of stupid decisions, Heir of the Malfoy name, worth nothing but what he gave it now. Hopeless. Fucking. Romantic.

His hormones ruled one head, his heart the other. For every dirty fantasy and guilty wank, he dreamed of finally confessing his feelings, of a gentle and chaste kiss, and proper courtship. More often than not, he wished that there was another person in the Manor these days, now that his father was still jailed and his mother moved in with other family, unable to look at the place. So now he was stuck with it.

And he felt the coward. Standing, Draco paced through the halls, thinking.

It would be so easy to just take her away from Weasley's manipulations. Bring her here, give her a pampered life. Give her everything and anything she wanted. Confess his love for her. _Yes, love,_ he chided the part of his brain that protested the word in relation to her. She may be a Muggle-born, but that never truly mattered, not the way that the Dark Pureblood lines liked to play up. Another thing Granger had brought to his attention, post-school. Genetics.

"Humanity can't breed fast enough for our genetics to keep up," he recited out loud, quoting her first, to taunt the empty frames on the walls. They had hid in other frames around the house, as the years continued on, and he became less like his father. They couldn't stand it. As Draco continued, he spoke his own words from that conversation, after his own research. "We do not evolve fast enough, and our gene pools shrink with too much of the same DNA passing around. We go mad with each generation." _Look at my aunt. Look at my father. Look at, look at, look at._ For every Pureblood line, he could think of multiple members who fit the worries about eugenics. "We need to move past our differences in blood status, as they are harmful to the Wizarding community. Magic will always find a way to continue on, but destroying the majority of our world will not help. It will destroy us."

Finally, his speech ended in the drawing room, unable to still pass through the doorway. It had been years since he could go in there, and if the magics would have actually allowed it, he would have burned just this room. These words, he had only ever spoken to the room, as if to deny its horrible memories, to spite what his family did.

"That's why, Hermione, I...I want..." _To tell you how I feel..._ No, no. Not today. Not after that.

He sighed, turning in place to climb back up the stairs to his room. It was late, he was still just barely buzzed, and he needed to be at work early.


	4. Decision

Hermione's office remained dark through the whole morning, leaving him worried and nervous. _Where is she?_

Of course, it was in that moment, that a memo zipped in, nailing him in the temple as it dropped to his desk. Cursing the creator of the spell under his breath, he flipped open the little note only to feel his blood freeze.

_Had a row with Ron again._  
Need a place to go.  
Take a half-day.  
In the lobby. 

_HG_

Draco was sure that his chair landed with a crash, and that other heads peeked out of their offices as he ran to the lift. Once inside, he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Running the whole way would look too eager. Sorting out his clothes, he bounced in place, trying to keep himself from exploding. Was she upset, was she happy, would she--

The doors opened, and he stepped out, as calm and collected looking as ever. And there, by where the awful fountain used to be, she sat on top of a single suitcase, her face buried into her hands.

All other emotions fled him, as he stepped closer.

"Hermione?" His voice remained soft. "What can I do to help?"

"I...I need somewhere to go." He could tell, before she even looked up, that she was crying, or had been at least.

"If you don't feel it's uncomfortable or awkward..."

Now Hermione looked up, and his heart nearly broke for how she looked. Tears hadn't stopped, he discovered. It was that look he knew well, of hours of sobbing, where you were too exhausted to cry properly. Tears just fell how they wanted. "I just broke up with my boyfriend and he kicked me out before I could finish talking. I doubt any situation is nearly so awkward."

"You could stay at the Manor." Draco wished he could take back his words, watching how tense she got, before all her muscles relaxed. "Only as long as you want, and you have as much free reign over it as you want." The words came out in a rush.

He let loose the breath he didn't know he was holding in as slowly, she nodded.

"Only until I find myself a good flat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels rather short to me, but it didn't quite fit in the one before or the one after.


	5. Internal Monologue

_I could buy you a house. Any house you wanted. I would give you mine. Do you want my bedroom as yours? Have it. Anything for you. Just you._ Words tumbled through his head, not giving him a moment's rest as he guided her to a guest bedroom, right next to his own.

"The bath is here, across the hall. Anything you could ask for, you can have. All the house-elves here now are working here because they want to, not due to being owned." The last bit made her break the first hint of a smile he had seen from her all day. "I'll stay here all day. If you want, I can bring you to the library later. Please, make yourself at home."

Hermione only nodded again, and he left to go see about them getting a lunch ready. She stood in the hallway, surprised by the warmth the top floors of the house gave off. It was nothing like the stark downstairs. It was welcoming.

Moving quickly, she unpacked her things into the guest room. Her suitcase held more than it looked, thanks to a spell she had learned years ago to give it far more room. It was only a matter of unpacking some of it into the dresser and wardrobe, leaving most of it within the luggage. Surely, she wouldn't be staying that terribly long.

Rather than worry about her time there, she ventured into the bathroom, needing to take a shower to feel human again. There was something about a hot shower that helped her reset after a fight. Opening the door, she bit back a gasp, eyes wide at what lay before her. Black porcelain and marble lay claim to nearly every surface, and what wasn't black was decorated in green. A clever spell had made some marbled surfaces look as though they were malachite. Details popped as she realized all the metal in the room was shimmering silver in color, a brilliant contrast against the darker colors.

In short, a perfectly Slytherin bathroom.

Darting back into her room, she gathered clothing and toiletries, intending to unwind as fully as the decadence allowed her to.

Draco paced, pausing only as he heard the water turn on, waiting for Hermione. Food was already being started, a light lunch leading into tea, then a proper dinner. But not in the dining room. No, not in a place so close to the drawing room, where only a few years ago-

He shuddered, trying not to close his eyes. He knew if he did, he'd see his mad aunt again, gleeful in such a deranged act. No, no. It was too much.

Instead, he had it all planned out. A light lunch in the gardens, where the late spring weather was perfect for it. They'd be able to take tea in the library, then relaxing among the old, leather bound tomes until dinner. He paused, worrying his lip. Should he even go through with all of this? It sounded as if he were planning on trying to express his interest in a relationship with her without using words. He was playing on her love of books and learning, and panic filled him. If he pursued a relationship with Hermione, if he did, by some God-forbidden chance, would she accuse him of that same manipulative behavior Weasley did?

No, Draco scoffed. The moment he pictured her saying that, with betrayal in her eyes, his heart twinged and bile rose in his throat. He was raised to be a gentleman, but to also not be a white knight. Women were more than strong enough to make their own choices, but being anything less than courteous and respectful made his stomach churn. It was there, hand against the fireplace's mantel, that she found him, hand clasped to his mouth, fighting down panic and stomach acid.

"Why."

Malfoy turned, eyes huge, staring at her. It was only Muggle clothing, he knew. But there was something else. Something _wrong_ about how she looked...and then he realized it. The worry over something trivial relaxed him. Her hair was wet and slicked down, of course it looked off. "Sorry, what?"

"Why. Why...why invite me to stay here? Why tell me about...him. Why point that out. Why...why anything?"

Slowly, he smiled, one of the rare, honest ones he gave her.

"Let's have lunch, and talk."


	6. Lunch

"You wanted to know why."

He had waited until after they had eaten, chatting about things more casually. Unusual files that had crossed their desks this past week, idle gossip about former classmates. Draco had been surprised at how well she kept up with nearly everyone in their year. He really shouldn't have been, however. It was Hermione. Of course she knew. It was just part of who she was.

The jump back in conversation threw her off for a moment. He could almost see the cogs turning in her head, before she nodded, throwing curls everywhere. "You _are_ going to tell me, right?"

"Yes." This is the part where his nerves _would_ start making him feel queasy, wouldn't it? Maybe he should have skipped eating... "I told you about...Weasley, because. I've been there. Not in a romantic relationship, but...the manipulation, the blaming..."

Hermione froze, her eyes darkening to near black. "Your father..."

"Yes." Of course she would figure that out. Draco pulled a face, continuing on. "I idolized my father, worshipped the ground he walked on. Then you hit me, and I had to think about life. Thirteen is an awfully awkward time to begin with. When a girl hits you, when your hormones are crazy...well." He smiled, listening to her chuckle. Maybe this wouldn't be so awkward after all. "Even then, I held onto the ideals fed to me. Kept my own thoughts in check. Until you Golden children broke into the Ministry." He breathed out his nose, trying to keep calm. "I made stupid choices, that summer."

 

It seemed like she may have understood some part of that, as the bookworm reached over, placing her hand on his left arm. He flinched, then. Even he tried to avoid remembering the brand. "Draco, no one blames you for that. Well, no. Plenty of people do. I meant...you did it for your mother, right?"

"Not just her." He whispers, heart racing. She touched that mark, willingly. She called him by his given name. Did she even realize the little things she did that drove him wild?

"No? Then who else?"

He stood, stepping forward to stare out at the gardens. Maybe if he didn't look at her, it would be easier. Slowly, he rolled up his shirt sleeves. "Snape wasn't happy with me, that year. I kept stepping up to make stupid mistakes. I told him who I was trying to protect." He paused, trying to get everything under control. Slowly, Draco raised his arm, light dancing over the fading mark. It had gone from black to sickly purple that fateful night at Hogwarts, and spent years fading to a less-sickly brown. Now it looked like an unfortunate burn, but one that wasn't leaving any time soon. "He told me that this wouldn't save her. The girl I was trying to protect. He...seemed like he knew something I didn't."

"He...he did. Oh, Malfoy." His heart dove, hearing his surname again. Of course he couldn't hold out hope she'd keep calling him anything else. "Harry told us afterwards...I guess he had a thing for Harry's mum when they were in school."

Draco paused, turning towards her, his eyes nearly silver from sparking with curiosity. "Was she in Gryffindor, like Potter?"

"Yes...why?"

"I...nothing, nothing. I just...it makes even more sense now." He felt like his knees were going to give out on him. _Just how much did that man know, that I never knew?_

"Draco?" His heart leapt into his throat again.

"So. Anyway. The reason I offered you to stay here...is..." It was now or never. He lifted his chin, made eye contact with her, and made sure Hermione had nothing but his gaze to focus on. "Is...that the manor has been empty, and I would appreciate the company, even if it is only temporary. Come, let me show you the library. I'm sure you'll find it to your liking."

Her eyes lit up, her smile forming soft dimples. "I would love to!"

Offering her his arm, he played off like everything was fine, like it was all normal. _Stupid coward Malfoy!_


	7. Past

Hours passed in comfortable silence, after the initial squeal of delight. Draco couldn't help but smile, knowing how this simple offer pleased her so much. Tea had come and went, and when one of the house-elves appeared inquiring where they would like dinner, he requested it to be brought into here. The whole while, Hermione didn't look up, engrossed in the volume she was currently reading.

"You know," she finally muttered as dinner was placed on the low coffee table before them. "I still do want to know who that girl was. The one that you thought doing those things would help."

He had just been about to pop the cork on a bottle of wine. _Maybe I should get the whisky instead..._ "Why so curious, Granger?"

"Well, it's just...we were so certain that you were crushing on Harry." Hermione paused, realizing that she had no idea how he would react. Her words continued on, pouring out quickly, as though to soothe any wrong she may have done. "I mean, you were always ranting about him, as far as we could tell, bordering on obsession, and that doesn't really come up until you're stalking someone or you have a really strong crush, and..."

"Hermione." He tried not to laugh. "While Potter is easy on the eyes, and quite easily someone I could see as my type...it took me until after leaving my father's house to realize that I may have."

"You...did? Do?" She leaned forward, curious. "You do know him and Ginny are married, right?"

Draco sighed dramatically, playing up the situation. "Sadly, yes. My chance, lost forever."

She laughed then, loudly, causing his smile to break into a wider grin. "I may be able to get that for you, if you really want it." He felt his heart leap into his throat. Fighting down the swarm of images in his mind, involving multiple pairs of limbs, and two mouths crashing down on his skin, he dropped to sit on the floor near the table, resuming his attempts at pouring the wine. At least from this angle, he could hide the threatening bulge in his pants.

"Some wistful day. Perhaps a birthday present." He winked, pleased when Hermione flushed slightly.

"You still didn't answer my question. Who is this girl?"

Hermione would never give up, not before she had the answer. Well, two could play at that game. "No longer a girl. She's a beautiful woman now. Brilliant, in fact. She's unique, at least to me. I...I can't find the words to describe her."

"Sounds like you love her."

"I...I very well might."


	8. Fantasy

Having spent the rest of dinner with a lighter conversation, joking that felt natural, and no mention of the years of distrust between them, Hermione retired for the night feeling lighthearted for the first time in ages.

She discovered quickly, however, the downside to being across the hall from a marble 

bathroom.

To be fair, she had thought the room would have its own silencing charm. She had thought that the water in the shower would drown out any noise.

Instead, Hermione was treated to half an hour of soft moans, growing in volume before ending in a strangled cry. Another fifteen minutes passed, and she looked up into the doorway. She had left her door open, out of habit if nothing else. She knew he was the only other person living there. And yet, her heart jumped as she looked up to see Draco.

Fine blonde hair slicked back from water, deepened to a tarnished glow. Hermione noted, in the quick moment that he stood there, surprised, that only the hair on his head was that almost-white, and that the small trail of hair leading down from his stomach was darker, nearing to a true blonde. Around his waist was one of those lush towels she had the pleasure of wrapping herself in earlier. Nothing else.

Draco swallowed hard, feeling suddenly like the shower session hadn't done enough, as he realized Hermione was staring at him. He slapped a shaky grin on, walking away. "Sweet dreams, Granger."

_Sweet dreams? Sweet. Dreams?! Bloody fuck, Malfoy, if that wasn't the most egotistical thing to say._ He couldn't help it. It had just fallen from his lips. And now, as he moved hastily towards his own bedroom, he couldn't feel like a bigger fool. He had given her the one guest room directly across from the bath, forgot about it, and then _wanked furiously to his favorite fantasy while in the shower._ He felt his face burn hot with embarrassment. He knew how that chamber sounded inside of it. How could he have not realized...?

Safe now behind his bedroom door, locked and the room silenced, he let a new thought creep into his mind. What had she done that she looked so shocked when he emerged? His mind flooded with her promise from earlier, as well as the images that plagued his mind. At least this time, now he was all by himself for rest of the night, and planned to make use of those thoughts.

The towel dropped, abandoned on the floor as he dropped bonelessly onto his bed to close his eyes and picture it all.

_They all were in his oversized bed, barely anything still on. Draco himself was naked, Potter wiggling out of his pants, and Hermione's barely tanned skin covered with only scraps of emerald lace. At first, she just watched, as the hero ran rough fingers over his former nemesis' skin, tracing unseen patterns down his chest. He leaned in, moaning against Harry's skin as he reached his cock, sliding fingers around his head and down his shaft. Draco moaned, then pushed Potter down, licking his way around **his** head, sucking hard as the first beads of pre-cum appeared. He could feel a soft hand reach around his waist, another body's heat behind him as he was on all fours, starting to stroke._

_Ah, but they had this all wrong. In short order they rearranged. Harry was slathering himself with a lubricant, and Hermione was nude, wet, and begging for him._

"Shit, wait--" Draco stumbled out of bed, needing to pause of just a moment, to grab a couple of very needed objects. He would never admit it to anyone he knew, but a trip out to the Muggle world had been just what he needed a year after the war ended. He had come home, face a blazing red, with a small bag of objects that no one would ever see but him. In that time, he had become more than familiar with the dildo and lube, often a part of his more private fantasies, and the nights where it was a male face in them, rather than a female one. Hell, there were nights where a woman used it on him, and those were some of his favorites.

But now, he prepared the toy, sliding it into himself as his eyes closed, letting the fantasy resume.

_Potter groaned into his ear as his cock pushed into him, tight and hot. Draco felt his own dick twitch in pleasure before he grabbed Hermione by the hips, drawing her closer. In moments, he was buried deeply in her, Harry deep in **him** , and cries of lust sounding all around him. He thrust, each motion of his hips causing another lover to moan his name, beg for more--_

As always, the extra assistance the toy gave him made his fantasies end quickly. Draco sighed, staring at the sticky mess over his hand--his wand hand, no less--and half his bed. And still...he didn't feel satisfied enough. He wanted more. Normally it would be, but maybe it was knowing that she had heard everything the first time, and it was a little thrilling to know that.

Shifting on the bed, one hand reaching back to thrust the toy, the other going back to his cock, he moaned into his pillow, picturing the second round of that threesome, involving Potter in his mouth and Hermione playing with his arse.


	9. Work

Hermione looked up from her desk, to see a blonde and black streak zip past her office door, only to slide into his seat, like nothing had happened, and he wasn't late at all. She chuckled, amused. _The great Draco Malfoy, acting like a harried student, late for class._

Draco was less pleased with himself, face bright pink. _Curse my fair complexion!_ He had forgotten to set any sort of alarm spell, and if it hadn't been for one of his house-elves checking in on him when they realized he hadn't eaten breakfast an hour after his normal time...

He sighed, shifting through the papers on his desk. _Just need to figure out what needs to get done today, and then I can get a coffee, and tide myself over until lunch._

The witch stretched in her office, catching his eye. Slowly, she stood, making her way over. "Easy day today, Draco," she said, once she had gotten close enough. He couldn't make eye contact with Hermione, not after how long it took him to get to sleep last night. "Why don't we go get a coffee, and discuss what paperwork needs to be done?"

"Sounds good." He stood, leaving the files on his desk slightly askew. Most of the walk was in silence, conversation only picking up on their return. Draco smiled above the plastic lid. A brilliant thing, magic, when you can pay for several hot cups in advance, and your paper cup was charmed to keep warm _and_ refill accordingly. "So, Hermione. Did you sleep well?"

She flushed, briefly. If it wasn't for her habit of keeping her hair pulled back at work, he would have never seen it. "I did, yes. Thank you. Did...uh. Did you not?"

"Wh-what?"

"You were late. By a decent amount."

"Uh." Hermione laughed, amused by Draco's sudden inability to form sentences. She watched his face flush a dark pink, bright against his pale coloring. "No, I slept just fine, just...took a while to get there."

-

As the day pushed on, Hermione couldn't help but keep an eye on Malfoy, slightly concerned that he'd fall asleep at his desk. He may have said he slept just fine, but she watched as time and time again, his eyes glazed over, or he lifted his head to stare blankly at a wall.

 _What has gotten Draco Malfoy this distracted,_ she wondered. _He can't focus, he clearly didn't sleep enough..._ As her analytical mind kicked into gear, she tried to figure out what could be wrong. _I mean, he did tell me last night that he was in love with a girl. In a different way, but he did say it. I wonder why he told me about that. Was he trying to explain to me why he was a complete prat in school? But what does that have to do with the conversation we had?_ She chewed on the inside of her cheek, bouncing her quill between her fingers.

 _He's trying to make up for all those times he's treated me awfully!_ She beamed, catching his eye as he looked up. Hermione gave him her best, brightest smile, trying to show him that she understood what he was doing. Draco flushed again, suddenly taking renewed interest in his paperwork, very enthusiastically signing, commenting, and filing away.

Hermione set about organizing her desk once more. _I'm going to thank him for helping me by getting him with that girl!_


	10. Drinks

"Really, Granger, you don't have to do this. In fact, you shouldn't."

"Nonsense! Really, Malfoy, trying to sneak out of wearing tight clothes and generally looking better than most of the room?" Hermione laughed, blindly putting on her earrings. Each glimmer drew his eye to them, where they dangled near her throat. The blond swallowed, pulling his eyes further upwards until they found the deep brown of hers, though her focus was on the wall.

"Is that so, Granger? Paid that much attention to my trousers over the years, have you?" The drawl he bore so proudly in school returned as he snickered. When was the last time banter was so easy? "I don't blame you. Like you said, I do look better than everyone else in the room. Who could resist this?"

To his surprise, Hermione let her eyes travel over his hips. "Well..." She only looked up when he made a small squeak. "...Draco?"

"I...um...yes. Us going out. Shouldn't be too hard for the two of us to find partners for the evening..."

"Or at least someone to buy me drinks!" She laughed, smoothing down her hair once more. It still sprung out, in whatever direction it wanted. For a spare moment, he wondered what it would be like to run his hands through it. Would his fingers get tangled? Would it feel soft?

Snapping near his face pulled him back to reality. The witch smirked as she slipped her wand into the little beaded bag she called a purse. "Come on. We're going to go get some drinks, and we'll have fun." _And I'll get that girl's name out of you yet!_

Though, she realized as they arrived at the bar, noise just loud enough to cover any conversation between a close whisper and a nearby shout, this could be harder than she thought. She figured a Muggle nightclub would be the best way to let him relax without fear of being targeted by other wizards or witches. Maybe she should have warned him first...

It didn't matter, as she slid Draco's drink to him. She could still get him just drunk enough to slip out this girl's name, but sober enough to Apparate home without fear of splinching. He sniffed at the gin in his hand, made a face, and sipped delicately. Leaning in, Hermione kept her voice barely loud enough for him to hear. "I know it smells overwhelmingly like the Great Hall during Christmas..."

"It _tastes_ like that too!"

"Not a terribly great gin, I know."

"Ugh."

"Oh, come now. I know you've had worse."

"Unlikely!" Hermione laughed, barely missing the glance he gave her, eyes traveling the stretch of her throat once more. "Granger...you know I mean it. You don't have to...help me get the girl, or whatever silly nonsense is rattling around in that head of yours."

He paused, suddenly recognizing that look on her face. The look of a young girl, determined to show everyone she's better than what they think of her. The look of a young woman, using everything she knows to fight a war where she must run, fight, or die.

The look of a woman who is dead-determined to do what she wants, everyone else be damned.

And it was directed at him.

_I am either very afraid...or incredibly turned on. Probably both._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, everyone. I know this chapter is sort of short. Summers are always busy for me, and this year especially so. The Day Job changed ownership, I've been working more, and gone every weekend due to my personal company doing things and having several weekends in a row of all three LARPs. The next chapter may be anywhere from 2 weeks to over a month from now, at best. Thank you so much to everyone who's been giving kudos, leaving comments, bookmarking, etc. You keep encouraging me to write more of my favorite ship!


	11. Confession

He hadn't meant to let her get drunk. She just kept trying to get him to have more alcohol, to loosen his lips, to get him to talk. And she failed, pretty fantastically. Now she was more than a little tipsy, trying to seduce him into letting slip the name. Draco panicked, managed to convince her to come home, where they could have a conversation in peace.

The Side-Along was just enough for her to be thrown off balance, and instead, managed to doze off as he sat her down on the couch. He smiled, watching her sleep, hair escaping its restraints. But this...this couldn't continue. Hermione would do this until the end of the world, and he knew it. He couldn't do that to her.

There wasn't much he could do, but the wizard breathed in deep, steadying himself.

He had letters to write.

\--

Hours passed, slowly bringing the witch back to consciousness, to the sounds of talking and a quill scratching. Eyes kept shut, Hermione listened, getting a grasp of the situation. Footsteps...pacing? And that was Draco speaking, his drawl turning frantic in his need to get the words out.

"Hermione, I...I took a month of vacation. This, along with the generous amount of Galleons I have left along with this letter, should give you ample time to find a place you want, and have spending money as well. You need not worry about paying me back for this, as it is a gift. I...I will be gone long enough for you to be able to move without worry. Feel free to take anything within the mansion as well. It is yours, should you desire it.

"Hermione...I...I love you. I have, for years. The girl I spoke of was you. And now? Now you're a beautiful woman, free of a man who treated you worse than I could imagine...but with how I acted to you for years, I don't doubt you think the same of me. I understand that my confession makes our living arrangements bizarre. I apologize..."

The pacing stopped, the scratching pausing as he took one deep, slow breath.

"Yours--no, scratch that out--oh, blasted quill! I'll just sign it myself..." Another pause, as a quick spell was uttered, too low for her to hear. The noise picked up just long enough for a signature. There was a clink, heavy against the wooden table, then the crackle of flames. As she sat up, there was a shuffle, the rushing roar of fire growing higher, then silence.

Hermione didn't bother looking at the letter, but chose to sit in silence, the manor now feeling eerie without his presence.


	12. Homecoming

**_A Month Later_ **

He dropped his luggage heavily onto the floor, listening to it echo through the manor. He had dreaded every moment of being away, terror and stress causing his vacation to be a personal act of torture. He had even run into Potter, while trying to drink the stress away at a pub. He had flirted with the hero, he was ashamed to say, too far gone in his drinks to really stop himself. Potter had only laughed, smiled, and helped him to the lavish hotel he was staying at. Despite it being an evening out, he had even Flooed his wife, and let her know what was going on. Of course, when Ginny had asked Harry why, Draco had let his damn fool mouth go free.

_"Because, oh gingery female, I am trying to seduce your husband, and instead he's babysitting me." Harry turned crimson, choosing that moment to clean his glasses while Mrs. Potter laughed in nigh hysterics. "I fear I am far too gone in my bottles to even attempt to perform, which may be the only reason he's staying."_

_"It's true, Gin. He even tried to kiss me."_

_"Tried, nothing. I succeeded! With tongue!"_

At that point, he had passed out, rather inelegantly, across Potter's shoulders and back to the laughter truly becoming hysteric, and Harry's frantic explanation. The next morning had found him waking up with a hangover, a potion cure by his bedside, and the sounds of a shower running in the bathroom.

 _Bit of a shame I was in too much agony to try and peek,_ he bemoaned yet again. _But any chance of that is pretty far dashed at this point. Damnation._ Draco made his way to his favorite liquor cabinet, pouring a scotch without hesitation.

Footsteps made him look up, confusion clear on his face. The house-elves never made that much noise. Around the corner, in his black satin bathrobe, was his dream-come-true. Hermione fucking Granger, wearing nothing but that robe, skin wet and material clinging to her. She must have been in the bath.

"You...you're still here?"

Her skin flushed pink and she drew the edges of the bathrobe closer. "Is that a problem?"

"No! Merlin, Hermione, no, it's not!" He placed the glass back down, took a half-step closer, then stopped. "You...um. I'll let you get dressed, and...um..."

"No hello? No letters the whole time you were gone? Not even so much as a location for me to find you in case of an emergency?" She huffed, frowning. A sigh washed the frown away before he could speak, and she smiled softly. "Draco, for someone who said they love me, you really fail at keeping in contact."

A lump grew in his throat as panic rose up. The waves of anxiety that he had been trying to keep at bay swirled at his knees, threatening his ability to stand. "Hermione, please, let me explain--"

"No."

"Er. No?"

"That's right. No. Because, Draco Malfoy, if we are to have a relationship, we are going to take it slow. And...you'll have to get used to me walking around wearing little clothing. I...got used to the manor being empty while you were away."

For the first time in many years, a smile broke across his face, wide and earnest. Draco could feels his cheeks burn with how far it stretched, and how light his heart felt.

"That, dear Granger, will be no problem at all. Where do we begin?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! Thank you to everyone who read it, left kudos, kept coming back for more, commented, etc. This is my first ever completed fanfic (holy cow!), and one I had fun writing. I may revisit my imagining of these two for more stories in this same timeline later on, but for now, I'll be writing some stuff for me.


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